By Sally Sparrow
by dreamsofabluebox
Summary: Travelling to New York with her boyfriend Larry, Sally Sparrow encounters a strange man and his two friends in Central Park. On seeing the Weeping Angels for a second time, will Sally get more than she bargained for? Horrible summary, but please read, I hope you like it and review :)


"You're not bringing that!" Larry holds the offending garment between his fingers and smirks. "This is New York, not Las Vegas." Sally grins at him and pushes it into the bag. Larry leans over her and they kiss, her hair mixing with the clothes covering the floor. Sally smiles and continues to pack, pushing handfuls of clothes into the already overflowing bag.

"Nearly done," she says to her boyfriend, who lies among the messy bedclothes, watching her as she struggles with the lid. "You are so lazy," she exclaims, her face a caricature of exasperation. Larry simply smiles and kisses her head. "I'm calling the taxi," he says, tapping down the stairs. "Hello I would like a taxi, Larry, Nightingale, yes Larry Nightingale. Um... half an hour. Two people. Luggage. The airport. Yes, the international. Thankyou." She can hear him put the phone down so she walks down with the two heavy bags. He smiles and takes them from her, placing them near the front door. "Got everything?" he asks.

"Yes." she pushes her thin fingers into her bag, searching for the feel of cold metal. "Wait no, where's my camera?"

The taxi arrives late but they don't mind, by then they had found the camera, sitting under Larry's discarded underwear beside the cupboard. Sally flicks through the pictures, sitting on the footpath with the sound of beeping echoing to where Larry pulls down the corrugated iron door of the shop. She flicks through months and then years of her life, the days captured on the tiny screen. Larry's birthday, her university graduation, their holiday to Paris, she keeps flicking until she reaches her images of Wester Drumlins. They flick past in grey and black. Kathy smiles in front of the old staircase. "Sadness is happiness for deep people," she whispers to herself, pushing away a tear from under her eye. The screen shows an image of Kathy laughing and now that Sally looks closely she can see the angel that must have taken her. She looks at the image, zooming in until it turns into blurry squares.

She zooms out again and keeps flicking, seeing it coming closer like in one of those flip books for small children. After five pictures the scene turns to upstairs and Sally realises these were the photos she was taking as her friend was dying, an old woman. It had struck Sally many times that if she had stayed longer she would have saved Kathy. She throws the camera onto the road and it skids along the wet bitumen. Larry runs towards her and puts his hand gently over her quivering shoulders. He takes the camera and looks at the scratched screen. A line stretches across his forehead. "There was nothing you could have done Sally, it was her or you. We all loved her and it was hard for all of us. She lived a good life Sally. She was happy." Sally looks up at him, feeling weak but needing to be held. "You really think so?" she asks. "Definitely," he says.

The taxi comes nearly twenty minutes late but they do not mind. Sally sits, her face stained and shiny with dry tears. "So," the taxi driver says in a voice that makes Sally smile again, "why the international, work, holiday?"

"A bit of both," Sally says. "I am going there on a sort of freelance photography job for a magazine called Lost World. They do photography of old, unusual things. We're doing this article on New York and they want pictures of the old parts of the city." The taxi driver smiles and turns down the radio which hums Elvis Presley behind Sally's head. "What's your name then, I'll look out for you."

"Sally Nightingale… Sparrow. Sally Sparrow. Sorry it's a habit." She lights up Larry's face with a kiss on his cheek. "And I run a DVD store." Larry kisses Sally back and she smiles, sticking her head out of the window. "So you must own a lot of DVDs then." He smiles and turns the volume back up. "17," Sally laughs into the mid-November afternoon. "Just 17."

New York airport bustles with life and Sally feels a strange excitement shivering down her spine. "Where do you want to go Sally?" he smiles but Sally feels overwhelmed. The air smells thick and strong. "I was going to do some photography in Central Park." They get a taxi from the airport to Central Park and Larry hands over the wad of newly converted bills without even wincing. They walk through the park, Sally stopping occasionally to pose sideways with the camera, capturing shot after shot of dilapidated statue. She stops at the central fountain, guarded on each side by a stone angel. She looks at it for a while, pulling her eyes as open as they will go. Larry notices and brushes her cheek, "It's okay Sally, you can blink sweetheart." She feels stupid, and it annoys her that she was being patronised. "I'm scared Larry, ok! You should be too." Larry looks hurt and turns, walking towards the hill, "Larry no, I'm sorry." He turns and looks at her, "I'm going to get ice-cream." He hisses but he seems so unthreatening that she laughs and kisses him. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

She turns back to the fountain and Larry puts his hand on her shoulder. "Take the photo Sally. Prove you can. Be better than them." She smiles and takes the camera, her fingers shivering on the shutter button, and zooms in to the angel. She keeps zooming until the angel becomes a blur of grey pixels, tears welling in her eyes. She zooms back out and pushes her finger down on the button, slowly, closing her eyes and listening to the click of the lens. Larry kisses her on the forehead. "I love you Sally Sparrow." Sally turns and looks at the fountain but the statue is gone. She tells herself it is her imagination and blinks, and the statue is back. She smiles back at Larry, "I love you too Larry Nightingale."

Sally smiles and walks up the green slope, pulling Larry behind her. On the top there are a group of people, they smile and laugh and one reads aloud from a book, he wears a bow tie and a tweed jacket and leans against a fiery haired woman who laughs against the bow tie man's back. "Hello," says Sally, suddenly with a glowing desire to photograph this group of people who seem to radiate happiness. "Do you think I could take a photograph of you for a magazine?" The bow tie man takes control, smiling up at her without looking at the rest of his group, "Sure you can." He is British and this surprises Sally, it is not the accent she anticipated. "Are you British?" she asks. "Ahem," says the bow tie man, smiling at his ginger companion, "sort of."

"Okay, look natural." She closes one eye and takes the photo. They look beautiful together, the blonde man, the bow tied one and the red headed girl whom she assumes is the bow tied one's partner. "Thankyou," she smiles. Taking Larry's hand she walking down the slope, but the bow tied man calls out to her, "Did you say your name was Sally Sparrow?"

"Yes, Sally Sparrow. Why?"

"I… No reason, I… no, nothing," he stutters. "Goodbye Sally Sparrow."

She looks back at him for a while before walking back down the hill, "New York growled at my window, but I was ready for it." The bow tied man reads smoothly. Sally looks at Larry with her eyes thin, "That was weird. I never told him my name. And he reminded me of someone I used to know but I don't remember who." Larry smiles, "Forget about it Sally."

Back in the hotel room that night Larry has matched the room to their bedroom at home, clothes and belongings scattered haphazardly on the carpet. Sally opens the window and stares out into the early evening, "Great lighting." She remarks airily, turning and smiling at Larry. "No, Sally, we just spent the whole day photographing, why now?" She smiles, pulling her lips down and opening her eyes wide, "Please." He smiles and takes her hand and they tap down the stairs together.

"Winter Quay." Says Sally, photographing the rusty sign on the old building, "Looks pretty abandoned, lets go." The doors swing open at Sally's touch and she smiles guiltily at Larry. Inside it is dark and they can hear an elevator coming downwards, it opens with an eerie light, but although she is scared Sally keeps the smile plastered on her lips. She photographs the elevator that seeps light into the blackness. The picture looks amazing. She is enthused now and runs into the elevator, feeling the old beauty of the machine radiating into her. She photographs the detail of the cogs, the typography of the numbers. The lift stops at level 2. She steps out, smiling despite the fear that is eating away at her. She photographs the old doors and the rooms, not daring to leave the lit up hallway.

"It was a hotel," She whispers, touching the polished door. "An abandoned hotel." She hears a giggling in the distance and ignores it, probably just neighbours, she's heard American walls are very thin. The floor above her creaks with footsteps and she closes her eyes, she remembers Larry's words, "They have already come for you, why would they come again. You have nothing to fear Sally." She desperately wants him. Needs him. A cold sweat runs down the back of her neck and she feels nauseas. She reaches her hand out to catch Larry's but it is not there. "Larry?" she cries out. She pulls her mobile phone and dials his number, her fingers shivering so that she has to type it three times before she can get it right. His ringtone, the theme from Jaws, echoes from the room behind her and she runs to it. The mobile phone sits on the side table and Sally grabs it, on the verge of fainting.

"Sally?" whispers an old voice behind her. "It's me, Larry. Sally I've been waiting so long. Sally Sparrow is that you?" But she does not hear

A flash of colour is streaks past the window and Sally screams, falling on the musty carpet. She rises and runs, pushing on her throat so that her breathing is choked, to stay awake. The elevator doors open and she runs in. Through the windows she sees flashes of a weeping angel and falls to the floor again. "I want to get out of here! I want Larry!" She runs onto the dark street and keeps running, blindly pushing at the air that seems so heavy against her. She collapses into the gutter, hitting her head on the corner, and lies crying and shuddering. She hears footsteps behind her. "Sally?" says Larry's voice, "Sally, what's wrong?" Her voice is high pitched and studded with sobs. "I thought the angels… the angels had taken… you and then… there was one and… I was so scared Larry. Didn't you see?" Larry creases his forehead. "I don't really remember to be honest, I was behind you and then I was walking along the street."

"Thank god you're here Larry." He leaves her to cry in the gutter for a while before leading her back to the hotel room.

The next day Larry takes an emotional Sally back to Winter Quay. "If you see it in day time it won't be as scary," he insists. They reach Manhattan at midday and Sally walks hesitantly towards the building, but what she sees makes her gasp. There is nothing. "I don't know," whispers Larry. "Maybe it was demolished overnight." They stand staring for a while before Sally makes a comment. "There's no rubble." They step onto the sight where a day ago there was a building. There are simply fragments of weeping angels, arms and dresses and wings. "This is weird," whispers Sally. "Really, really weird." They walk around for a while, kicking through the weeping angels' graveyard. "Hey Larry, I was thinking of calling my article _The Statues Take Manhattan._" Larry smiles and spreads his arms out in front of him like it is a giant magazine, "What about: _The Angels Take Manhattan._" Sally smiles. "Perfect: _The Angels Take Manhattan_, By Sally Sparrow."


End file.
